I'm Not Gonna Teach Him How To Dance With You
by elenwyn
Summary: “Stop being paranoid – Ow!” Claire retorted, wincing as he stepped on her toe again, “He’s talking to Heidi, how could he possibly be staring at you?” Canon!Paire oneshot. Peter doesn't like the way Claire's boyfriend is dancing with her.


**A.N:** This is a funny little piece I thought up tonight. I wanted to write some semi-fluffy Paire and here's what happened :) Feedback would be lovely. Oh yeah, the title was taken from a song by Black Kids called, "_I'm Not Gonna Teach Your Boyfriend How To Dance With You_", which is where the inspiration came from.

**Warnings: **Canon!Paire (which means incest if you didn't know, although Claire is of legal age and all that in this) and excessive West!Bashing. This fic is kinda a crack!fic now I think about it, so just go along with it. :)

**Spoilers:** Up to the end of Season 1, and all you have to know about Season 2 is West, so not a lot, really.

Enjoy!

--

Peter held back a groan as he watched his niece's boyfriend step on her toes for the umpteenth time. He knew Claire was indestructible and all but, _please_, this boy really needed some dancing lessons. _Badly_.

He'd been watching them for about an hour now, going around the hall Nathan had hired for his function to do with – whatever, Peter was more concerned with the hand that was slowly making its way down Claire's back, and he wanted nothing more than to fling that stupid West-what's-his-name across the room just for that little action.

What? He was very protective over his niece. She'd grown into an incredibly beautiful young woman – not just in Peter's eyes, in _everyone's_ – so it was logical that he'd keep an eye out for lecherous boys that were trying to have their way with her.

(It had nothing to do with the fact he was a tiny bit jealous. Oh, no.)

So he kept a very close eye on them as they danced – or, rather, _tried_ to dance – again, sipping from his drink as he leant against the back wall, smirking as he picked up on the conversation the pair were having.

(Super-powers did come in handy, especially when it came to these sorts of things.)

--

"Claire, your uncle's staring at me again."

West wasn't a happy bunny. First, he was cajoled by Claire into coming to this ball thing. Then, he was forced into a tuxedo by her scary-as-hell grandmother, had her creepy, over-protective uncle stare at him all night and worst of all, was made to _dance._

"Stop being paranoid – Ow!" Claire retorted, wincing as he stepped on her toe again, "He's talking to Heidi, how could he possibly be staring at you?"

West turned his head around, sure he could feel the younger Petrelli's eyes boring into his back but, sure enough, he was talking to the Congressman's wife, seemingly innocent.

With a huff, he turned back round to his girlfriend, inadvertently stepping on her foot again, "Sorry," he said hastily, in retaliation to Claire's angry look, "And I _swear_ that he was a second ago. He's been watching us all night, Claire, and –"

"Will you shut up about Peter? You've been going on about him all night – he's not doing anything wro – _Ow!_ Jesus, West, learn to dance, will you?"

All West could do was look sheepish as his girlfriend glared at him and flounced off in the direction of the drinks table, feeling a pair of eyes on him again. Turning around, he met the defiant stare of Peter Petrelli and frowned angrily, before stalking off the dance floor himself in search of some fresh air.

--

From the back of the room, Peter grinned and pushed himself off the wall, depositing his drink on a nearby table and going in search of his niece.

--

Claire sighed, swilling the ice-cubes in her drink around despondently – non-alcoholic, of course. West could be such a douche at times, a paranoid douche and a lame dancer to boot.

She cringed as she thought of how many times her feet had been stepped on that night. Couldn't West give her at least a little consideration and _try_ not to dislocate her toes? It was always a bother popping them back in to place – toes were fiddly that way.

He'd been annoying her all night, if she thought about it long enough. From whining about having to fly over here – Hello? It wasn't like he needed a plane to get to New York – to having to go out in formal attire, to his apparent fixation on Peter and the fact he'd been 'watching' them all night.

She'd thought it was West who had stalker-like tendencies, not the other way around.

Claire figured he was just jealous anyway. After all, Peter _was_ more attractive than him – _way_ more attractive, if Claire was allowed to think about it without crossing the ew-gross! line – and the former cheerleader held him in extremely high regard, much higher than her own boyfriend, even. West hadn't saved her from a phsyco-mad killer multiple times over the last couple of years, _Peter_ had.

(She could mention her insane crush on her uncle, but West didn't know about that.)

And speak of the devil, out of the corner of her eye Claire saw Peter make his way through the many people talking – just how many guests had Nathan invited to this thing, anyway? – to get to her, and smiled. It was funny how quickly her mood could turn around just by his presence, in a completely familial way, of course.

"You two lovebirds arguing again?" He asked as he reached her, causing the girl to scoff.

"Pur-lease. _That_ was not an argument," She rolled her eyes, "West never argues. He just apologies and follows me around like a lost dog."

Peter laughed, his gaze dropping to her lips as she talked, trying to keep his thoughts on the appropriate scale even when Matt Parkman wasn't around to hear them, "I noticed he's very hesitant on the dance floor."

Claire blinked, glancing up at him – so he _had_ been watching them. Not that it meant much, West was such a bad dancer that they'd drawn the attention of dozens of people, so it wasn't surprising.

"Yeah, my poor feet are hypothetically bruised and battered right now," She sighed again, gazing forlornly over to the dance floor, "I haven't had a decent dance all night."

The former hospice-nurse-turned-superhero smirked as he offered a hand out to her, making the most out of her head turning to get a good look at her figure in the form-fitting dress she was wearing, "Perhaps I can rectify that situation?"

Claire was pleasantly surprised at the offer. She knew Peter didn't dance with just _anybody_, and her body tingled with anticipation at the mere thought of his hands on her – in a completely non-sexual way, though.

"Go on then," She smiled and laced her fingers through his, letting him lead her back to the centre of the room.

--

One dance quickly turned into two, and then three. By the fifth dance, Claire could definitely say she was having a much better time than she'd had the whole night with her not-so-talented boyfriend. Her and Peter seemed to be in sync with each other, bodies moving in exact time with the music.

She knew that Nathan would be keeping an eye on them; the last thing he wanted was a scandal right in the middle of his function, so they kept it platonic, he with a hand resting on the small of her back and she with an arm on his shoulder, their spare hands linked together.

However, as soon as a slow song came on, Peter span her out and pulled her closer to him as she turned, so that both her hands came to rest around his neck and his hands pressed against her back more urgently than before.

She was surprised, but didn't ask questions, deciding to use their positioning to her advantage when she noticed West walk back into the room.

As she was the perfect height, Claire rested her head against Peter's shoulder, smirking as her boyfriend registered what was going on, looking horrified. She could feel Peter laugh softly into her ear, "You're awful, ditching your boyfriend for your Uncle."

Claire chuckled at the double meaning, eyes pulling away from West's frozen form to look at the younger Petrelli, "Well, you gave me a better offer."

Unexpectedly, she pulled away from Peter completely, walking confidently in her high heels to the place West was standing.

"You – he – why – it – I mean –" West spluttered indignantly, hands flapping, "You're _my_ girlfriend, Claire!" He made a reach for her arm, which she moved out of reach.

"Correction: I _was_. Go home, West, force your creepy, stalking, whining, dance-less self on some other poor individual."

"And what are you going to do," Her former boyfriend's face had turned a rather unattractive shade of purple, "Stay here and screw your uncle?"

Claire laughed, "You know, I think I just might."

She gave the now shell-shocked boy one last wink, before glancing over her shoulder and projecting some rather X-rated thoughts to Peter, who was standing watching the conversation with amusement.

He raised his eyebrows at West as he passed, stopping at the last minute to grab him by the shoulders, "Just to forewarn you: go near Claire again and I _will_ mutilate you so that if you ever _did_ want to dance? You'd have no chance. Got it?"

As West nodded mutely, the man smirked, before following Claire up to the hotel rooms on the floors above the party.

Needless to say, the only person who wasn't having a good time at the end of the night, was West.


End file.
